Monsters and Men
by Blaire Nightshade
Summary: "It ends when he feels the same pain I have felt all these years." Sherlock Holmes is a half-human vampire hunter who has been on a quest for vengeance ever since his wife was murdered at the hands of James Moriarty. He intends to exact revenge by killing Moriarty's first mate Molly…but nothing ever goes according to plan. Sherlolly. Vamp!lock. AU
1. The Pieces are Moving

**Hello world, just wanted to say thanks right off the bat for giving this story a moment of your time. Reviews are like gold to me, so if you wouldn't mind leaving one saying what you think i would be most happy. I take every review, favorite, and follow to heart! :)**

**Anyways...this story basically follows Sherlock Holmes who is a half-human vampire hunter. Think Blade meets Underworld. I won't go too much into details, if you're confused about anything, please let me know...I would be glad to clear things up.**

**That being said...this is a vampire story meaning bloodsucking, gore, interrogations, and down the line _sex_. So i have given this a rating of M. **

***clears throat* SHALL WE BEGIN?**

* * *

Sherlock Holmes stood back in the shadows as he watched the crowds of people push their way inside the jam-packed club.

He lit his third cigarette of the night as he scanned the bars patrons. A wide variety of people were walking through the doors; Men, Women, Older, Younger…nothing fancy, easy for someone to sneak in unnoticed. He detested these sorts of scenes, but he had no choice in the matter.

There was a killer on the loose.

Sherlock's Homeless Network had photographic evidence that Sherlock's target had come here on three separate occasions in the past month.

A seemingly ordinary middle aged man named Jeffery Hope who was employed as a cabbie. Sherlock knew better however, this was no man at all.

It was a vampire.

Sherlock had yet to meet this Jeff Hope face to face, but he deduced by looking at the pictures that…Hope had been a_ familiar_ dying of some human ailment, and had been successfully turned about 18 months ago.

Sherlock loathed _familiars _as much as he hated their undead masters. Humans who would sell their souls in exchange for a chance at immortality. They would carry out the orders of the dead, only to have their bodies drained dry with the chance of being turned.

Unfortunately Jeff Hope terrorizing the human population, forcing random people to somehow commit suicide. Sherlock had also learned on his own, that Hope was directly tied to 13 missing persons in the past year. Hope was sloppy about his feedings.

When the body counts begun to add up, Detective Inspector G…something Lestrade have given Sherlock the 'okay' to take this Jeffery Hope out. DI Lestrade was one of the few people in London to know about the existence of vampires, he was also one of a handful of people who Sherlock could actually trust. He knew what Sherlock was and that made him the best man for the job.

Sherlock Holmes: Consulting Detective by day, Vampire Hunter by night.

Sherlock broke from his thoughts when he saw a yellow cab pull up onto the curb of the street, the driver behind the wheel was undoubtedly Hope.

Sherlock watched as a middle-aged woman dressed head to toe in pink climbed into the backseat of Hope's cab, going towards the final destination…death.

He threw his cigarette to the ground and begun to track the cab as it sped off into the night.

oOoOo

Sherlock walked into the empty school cafeteria and followed the sounds of muffled screaming. He turned the corner calmly with his hands in his pockets. He sighed as he saw the cabbie forcefully grabbing the woman's head so her throat was bared to him.

Sherlock could smell the potency in her blood from across the room and it was intoxicating, but he managed to stay his hunger. Sherlock simply waited for Hope to finish, knowing that it was too late for the woman in pink.

Her screams finally ceased, and Sherlock cleared his throat to get Hope's attention.

"How good of you to join us Mr. Holmes," Hope said slyly as he finally removed his mouth from the dead woman's neck. He then proceeded to toss her to the ground as a child would an old toy.

Sherlock didn't flinch or even look over as the woman in pink fell limply to the ground, her arms and legs sprawled around her. "I take it you were expecting me."

"Clever young man," Hope clapped as he walked over to one of the lunch tables opposite Sherlock. He gestured for Sherlock to take a seat, which the consulting detective did. "I've been watching you, trying to get your attention."

Hope had blood dripping down the front of his mouth, which he proceeded to wipe away with the back of his hand. Sherlock fought the urge to cringe as Hope then proceeded to suck off any excess blood from his fingers, smacking his lips as he did so.

"So…Mr. Holmes," Hope sighed as he leaned back in his seat, "is it true the things they say about you?"

"What do they say…enlighten me." Sherlock pressed.

"They say that you can learn a person's whole life story from one glance."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as they scanned over Hope. He cleared his throat and began to list off his deductions, "You were a familiar for three years, struck a deal with a vampire after you found out you were dying of cancer…something to do with your children but not your wife, your vampire master turned you no more than two years ago…you moonlight as a cab driver, driving unsuspecting victims here before you either drain them dry or force them to ingest poison."

"Go on then, how'd you do it." Hope smiled slightly impressed.

Sherlock nudged to Hope's wrist where the sleeve had ridden up, "You have the tattoo of a familiar, inks faded a good deal and wasn't ever touched up. Why pay money to fix something if you have a death sentence hanging over your head. The picture in your cab is of your two children but your wife has been torn out of the frame."

"You still care about them," Sherlock continued, "Somehow, this has to do with your children."

"I'm impressed Mr. Holmes, but you got one thing wrong," Hope smirked, "I didn't force anyone."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and steepled his fingers together.

"I gave 'em a choice," He said as he brought out his two vials of identical pills. "There's a good bottle, and a bad bottle…chose the good one, you get to walk away. The bad one…well you know the answer."

"As a matter of fact they're both toxic, you just aren't affected by the poison because of your…physiology." Sherlock amended. "So how does killing people help your children?"

"Every corpse I put in the ground, a sum of payment goes into a bank account for my kids."

"I'm beginning to see why your wife left you," Sherlock gaze narrowed.

"Speaking of wives Mr. Holmes…" Hope taunted, "How's yours?"

Sherlock tensed at the mention of Irene. He locked his jaw and stared into Hope's gaze. Hope knew about Irene, which meant that he knew the vampire responsible for her death. This night wasn't turning out too bad after all.

"Did you know that she begged," Hope laughed manically, "The bitch begged for it when her throat was slit. Begged for an end to her miserable life."

Sherlock knew this was a lie, Irene never was one to go down without a fight, and this knowledge gave him strength to resist the urge to stake Hope right here and now.

"How would you know…" Sherlock countered, "I don't recall you being there."

"Enough chit chat Mr. Holmes, my boss told me about you," Hope smiled manically as his fangs descended, "you got yourself a fan Mr. Holmes. He really wanted to meet you too…it's a shame you won't live to see him."

Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at the vampire Jeff Hope, "Do you even know how to kill me?"

The cabbie nudged one of the vials forward, "It's this or the gun…one of 'em is bound to work."

Sherlock knew the poisoned pill wouldn't affect him, but he really wasn't in the mood to play any more games with this crazed cabbie.

Sherlock narrowed his gaze, "The gun…I insist."

"Should have chosen the pill, Mr. Holmes," Hope smirked before pulling a handgun out from under the table, pointing it at Sherlock's and emptying the clip into his chest.

Sherlock hissed and dug his nails into the table as he felt his chest absorb the bullets.

His fingers clenched into fists as he felt a burning sensation in his chest. His healing ability had kicked in and begun to forcibly push the foreign bullets out of his body.

One by one the bullets popped out of his skin and fell to the floor as Sherlock breathed deeply.

Sherlock straightened his back and cracked his neck before turning his gaze back to the startled Jeff Hope.

"I take it your 'boss' didn't see it relevant to mention that I'm not strictly speaking human," Sherlock sighed.

"What are you?" Hope demanded in shock as he looked Sherlock up and down.

"What I am is Irrelevant," Sherlock said as he pulled a black gun out of the inside of his coat and twisted a silencer onto its nuzzle. "All you need know is I am your worst enemy…and you piss me off."

Hope eyes widened in horror as Sherlock leveled the gun at his shoulder and silently fired the bullet. Hope was kicked off the table and immediately began to clutch his shoulder in pain as he crashed to the ground. It felt like it was on fire.

"Silver," Sherlock explained as he stood up and walked over to the incapacitated Hope who was writhing in pain on the floor, "Who knew that this little metal was toxic to vampires?"

Sherlock leaned down onto the ground before gripping the lapel of Hope's cardigan and pulling him up off the ground, "It burns its way into your skin slowly, but the pain doesn't stop, it won't stop…not until it's removed."

"Burn in Hell…Mr. Holmes," Hope spat out with hate as he slammed his fist onto the floor, "kill me and be done with it!"

"Oh no," Sherlock said calmly, "You don't get to die, not until you've told me what I want to know."

"You know the vampire who murdered Irene Adler," Sherlock moved his second hand over to the bullets entry point and begun to apply subtle pressure with his thumb, "Let's start with the name."

Hope cried out sharply as Sherlock increased the amount of pain from the silver.

"A name!" Sherlock hissed, his anger rising to the point where he felt his incisors descend.

The old man cried out as Sherlock pressed hardly into the silver bullet imbedded in his shoulder. There was a searing sound as the vampires skin burned into its flesh.

Sherlock was getting impatient as he bellowed, "What was his name!"

The vampire cried out something incoherent but Sherlock was vaguely able to make it out.

Moriarty.

Sherlock's world froze as the name echoed in his brain. James Moriarty. He recognized the name; Moriarty was notorious for being a ruthless sadistic vampire who held the power of one of the largest vampire clans in Europe.

"What are you doing?" The vampire asked as he saw Sherlock rifle through his coat "I told you what I know."

Sherlock said nothing as he pulled out a sharp wooden stake and ignored Hope's pleas.

"Not my problem," Sherlock said as he drove the stake through the Hope's chest, piercing his heart.

The vampire let out a soundless cry as he suddenly dissolved into nothing but a pile of ash.

Sherlock slowly stood back up and wiped the ash from his belstaff. He twitched his lip and his fangs went back up into his gums, completely hidden. He unscrewed the silencer from his pistol and pocketed the parts inside his coat.

Sherlock proceeded to whip out his phone and fire a text to Detective Inspector Lestrade.

2 dead…one human, one vampire

Cover up story required. Case closed

-SH

oOoOo

Dr. John Watson groaned as he walked into the living area of 221B Baker Street and saw his roommate and best friend Sherlock Holmes staring intently at a sequence of pictures on the wall above the fireplace, all attached by a single thread of red string.

He was standing in his usual position with his fingers pressed together, steepled against his lips…deep in thought. He had removed his suit jacket and was pacing around in his black slacks and purple dress shirt.

"What's all this about?" Watson asked as he plopped down in his leather chair and folded his arms.

Sherlock laughed almost manically as he spun around and stepped out of the way so John could see his mural.

"I finally found him!" Sherlock shouted with glee, "After 10 long years…I have finally found him!"

Sherlock took a breath and suddenly his mood dropped and he spoke in a cold terrifying voice, "I have finally found the monster that murdered my wife."

Sherlock tapped the picture tacked at the top of the Mural, and John made out the name. James Moriarty. The picture of Moriarty was eerie, and John immediately had a bad feeling about this whole situation. Moriarty was smiling in his picture, but it was not a friendly smile…it was menacing. Moriarty's eyes seemed to burn through the picture as if he were in the room with the two men. John actually felt a shiver go down his spine.

He had known Sherlock for 5 years, known he hunted vampires for a profession for 3, and known he was a half-human dhampir for 2.

Dhampirs…nature's loophole. There were only two confirmed dhampirs in the world, Sherlock and his older brother Mycroft. Their father was a vampire, their mother was a human. Violet Holmes had miraculously survived both births alongside her sons.

They had inherited their father's vampiric abilities, but surprisingly none of his weaknesses. Sherlock and Mycroft could walk in the sun, were impervious to silver and wood, and did not require blood for nourishment…although they still craved it.

Upon reaching adolescence, both boys discovered they had grown a pair of retractable fangs that went along with their superspeed, superstrength, and durability.

If anyone could single handedly take down Moriarty's clan, it was Sherlock…but that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous. Sherlock was arguably the most powerful being in the world (next to Mycroft), but he wasn't untouchable. He couldn't go up against the most feared vampire in all of Europe and expect for the plan to go smoothly.

He needed to work within the confines of reality, "Sherlock you need to think about this."

"What is left to think about," Sherlock asked puzzled, "I have found the appropriate information, what better time to attack than now?"

"What is your plan, Sherlock?" John asked as he rubbed his eyes, "You're gonna fight through an army of vampires just to stake this guy?"

"Of course not…this was never about him." Sherlock sneered, "He took away the woman I loved, I am simply going to return the favor."

Sherlock then trailed his finger across one of the strings and landed on a picture on the top right, next to Moriarty. It was a girl, no more than 30 years of age. She hadn't realized that her picture was taken, but there was something off about her…she looked almost _sad_.

"Who is she?" John asked worried about what Sherlock was going to do.

"Her name is Molly Hooper," Sherlock told John, "She is Moriarty's first mate, and I am going to kill her."

* * *

**I know, I know...Sherlock can't kill Molly, this is a Sherlolly story after all. Just wait and find out. I'm currently juggling 4 stories at the moment, so updates may be a little on the slow side. Just a heads up!**

**Once again, I would be extremely delighted if you would take the time to leave a review. I want to know if people like this or if they think there is room for improvement.**

**Last note, I promise. I'm American, so if any of my British lingo is scrambled...I apologize for that now and forever. :)**


	2. A Flaw in the Plan

**Wow, got such a positive response from the first chapter I decided to speed things up a little bit and get the second chapter posted! Let me know what you think!**

**P.S. Dhampir is an actual term that refers to the offspring of a vampire and a human. I did not make it up and can't take credit for it...or Sherlock ;)**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

"_Her name is Molly Hooper," Sherlock told John, "She is Moriarty's first mate, and I am going to kill her."_

Sherlock's words simply echoed in Johns head as he began to process the sentence. Sherlock was going to get his revenge by killing the wife of Moriarty? That made absolutely no sense in John's mind. By the sound of it; this Molly girl was innocent in Irene's murder. Sherlock simply wanted her dead so Moriarty would know what that pain felt like?

This wasn't right.

"Sherlock, this is ridiculous," John cursed as he got up from his chair, "you want to eliminate Moriarty, be my guest…but what did she have to do with this?"

"Explain," Sherlock asked not following where John was going.

"What did she do to deserve this?" John demanded pointing at the picture of Molly Hooper.

"What did Irene do to deserve an early death?" Sherlock wheeled around and spat back at John.

"Oh put those away!" John shouted as Sherlock's fangs involuntarily came down, "this is wrong and you know it!"

Sherlock paused and a moment later his fangs were ascending back into his mouth. He cleared his throat and spoke in a calmer manner, "I am killing a vampire how can that possibly be wrong? They are nothing but vile creatures that prey on the living."

"Sherlock whether you like it or not, you're half vampire." John lectured, "Your father was a vampire, and as far as I know you never had the urge to stake him when he was alive."

"My father was one in a thousand." Sherlock tried to defend himself, he didn't understand why this was so complicated.

"Well maybe she is too! What if she's different from the rest?"

"She will die, John…" Sherlock explained, "I will kill her in front of Moriarty, then I will follow with him…and then I will burn his nest down to the ground, along with every other pair of fangs in there. They will all burn."

"You're not honoring Irene's death…you're reveling in it," John cursed, "and she would despise you for this."

"So what," Sherlock cursed, "maybe I'm not doing this for her. Maybe I'm doing this for me; maybe I need closure after ten long years of chasing empty leads."

"If that's what this is about…" John took a breath and got together his coat and keys, "You can count me out."

"Good lord, John," Sherlock cursed, "it is one vampire."

"I don't care, it's the wrong one." John said slamming the door behind him.

"Enjoy your night with Mary," Sherlock yelled sarcastically.

He wasn't expecting John to open the door back up and yell back, "I WILL!" before slamming it shut again.

oOoOo

"I don't understand it," John said as Mary poured him a cup of tea, "I know that he has a drive to find who was responsible for Irene's death, but isn't inflicting death on the innocent a bit much? That's not justice."

Mary shrugged her shoulders as she sat down next to him, "Sherlock has been in a dark place a long time. That woman was the only constant in his life. You walked into his life after Irene's death, who even knows what he was like when she was still alive."

"I believe Mycroft is the only one who has that answer," John chuckled as he sipped his tea.

John had come clean to Mary about the whole vampire hunting business when he realized that this was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He wanted to marry her, and didn't want any secrets hanging over their heads.

She had definitely taken it better than John had when he found out about Sherlock's night job…

_2011_

_It had been a seemingly normal case; a couple of people had turned up dead with connections to a Chinese gang. Sherlock had revealed them to be smugglers, but the consulting detective went on edge when he discovered that each of the smugglers bore an identical tattoo on the heel of their right foot. _

"_John, I find it in my best interest if I go this one alone," Sherlock said quickly after they watched Soo Lin Yao put her shoe back on._

"_What is going on!" John demanded, alarmed at seeing Sherlock tense up. _

_Little did John know at the time, but the Black Lotus gang was not just a secret crime organization…but the name of a powerful ancient Chinese vampire clan. _

_The tattoos on the base of the right heel were that clan's identifying mark branded onto the familiars. Eddie Van Coon and Brian Lukis were familiars of the Black Lotus clan, awaiting the day they could be formally inducted into the vampiric ranks…a day that never came for them._

_Looking back, John understood why Sherlock had tried to shake him off of the case. Sherlock didn't want John exposed to the dangers of the vampire community, after all ignorance was bliss. But after Soo Lin ended up getting murdered by her own brother, John had no choice but to tag alongside the great consulting detective. _

_But Sherlock's attempts to hide the truth from John ended in vain when the leader of the Black Lotus clan, General Shan, kidnapped John and his former girlfriend Sarah. _

"_Where is he Mr. Watson?" General Shan asked as she pointed her gun at him, "where is the Daywalker?"_

"_I don't know what you're talking about?" John struggled against the ropes tying him down, "What the bloody hell is a daywalker?"_

_General Shan smiled coyly as she pulled her gun back, "I see, he never told you about us did he?" _

_John asked cautiously, "Told me what?"_

_General Shan and her three companions all stalked forward and bared their fangs at John who recoiled as far back in his chair as he possibly could. There was no way, absolutely NO Way that those were fangs._

"_It's okay, Mr. Watson," General Shan hissed as she grabbed at his hair, pulling his head back so his neck was exposed to him, "he will come to us after finding your cold corpse."_

_Shan lowered her teeth down closer to John's neck before several shots went off in the tunnel. The three vampires vanished, leaving only a puff of ash. _

_General Shan bared her fangs at Sherlock as he walked through the tunnel making himself known, "I've been told you were looking for me…well here I am."_

_Sherlock didn't leave General Shan time to respond before he fired a wooden bullet straight through her heart. _

_John froze as Shan's ashes caked his skin. He took deep breaths trying to process what precisely had happened. He tried to form coherent thoughts as Sherlock walked to their chairs and began to untie the ropes binding them. _

"_She kept going on about something called a daywalker…daywalker. What the bloody hell is going on Sherlock?" John demanded as Sherlock released him from the bonds and then swiftly moved over to the petrified Sarah._

"_I may have left out a few unimportant details about myself when we first met John…" Sherlock said uneasily as he avoided his friend's gaze. _

"_Unimportant details?" John mumbled in disbelieve, "SHERLOCK HOLMES I WAS JUST ATTACKED BY A BLOODY VAMPIRE!"_

"_Do calm down John, It's not the end of the world," Sherlock reprimanded the frantic army doctor. _

_John was shooting daggers at Sherlock, "no…it's just you forgot to mention to me that you kill vampires for a living!"_

"_Don't be ridiculous," Sherlock waved him off, "it's only a night job."_

Present

It took John several weeks to adjust to this new side to Sherlock's life. And that was before he had even found out about Sherlock being one of them, a Dhampir. That took several months to adjust to.

oOoOo

"Here you are, Mr. Holmes," Bill Wiggins, head of the Homeless Network, told Sherlock as he handed him a manila folder with the detailed layout of Moriarty's mansion.

Ever since Jeff Hope confirmed Moriarty's involvement in Irene's death, Sherlock had used the Network at maximum capacity. He wanted to know how many vampires belonged to Moriarty's clan, how old they were, and when they came and went from the mansion.

It took a week to map out a sufficient operation.

The plan was simple enough, sneak in about an hour or so before sunrise. By the time Sherlock fled the mansion, none of the vampires would be able to follow him without burning to a crisp. Once he infiltrated Moriarty's lair he would locate Ms. Hooper's private chambers and put a wooden stake through her heart. Moriarty would find his beloved mate no more than a pile of ash and Sherlock would be untraceable.

The plan was flawless.

It was executed flawlessly as well. He arrived at the mansion precisely when he meant to and managed to sneak inside without raising an alarm. He used his superspeed to avoid the detection of the human familiars and scout out the remainder of the building.

He had both his silenced guns out, armed with wooden bullets. Any stray vampire that stood between him and Molly Hooper was reduced to ash.

He finally made his way to the third floor, where Molly Hooper's day chamber was located.

Sherlock kicked the wooden doors open with such force that they snapped right off the hinges and fell to the floor at his feet.

He quickly scanned the room and noticed three vampires. Two male bodyguards for the female in the middle of them. The girl he identified as Molly Hooper…his target.

She looked innocent as her eyes rose from the book on her desk she had been reading, and looked up at him with a mixture of confusion and interest. Her hair was pulled back in an elaborate ponytail, with little braids wound in. Two locks of her hair fell on the sides of her temples in strawberry blonde ringlets.

Her fancy hair matched her attire perfectly. She wore a flowing black dress with a slit up one leg. Her dress was sleeveless and formfitting to her petite body. She had the most expensive diamond jewelry at her neck and ears.

She looked like she belonged in a ballroom, dancing with Princes and Lords from all over the world. She most certainly didn't belong here, cooped up in a small room reading all day under the supervision of guards.

Molly's two bodyguards immediately bared their fangs at Sherlock and ran at him with superspeed. Sherlock dove out of the way in the nick of time and rammed the first guard head first into the wall, he proceeded to spin around and kick the legs out from under the second guard.

Molly watched in awe as the tall vampire in the black coat dispatched Moriarty's guards and incapacitated them. They were two of his best soldiers…each over 200 years old.

She yelped and covered her mouth with her hands as she saw the tall vampire pull out two guns and aim them at Lars and Micah, shooting them both in the head as he turned his gaze towards her.

Molly watched in silent horror as the bodies of Lars and Micah began to dissolve in front of her, eventually crumbling into nothing but a pile of ash and dust, to be swept away with the trash. It reminded her of how Moriarty would kill the vampires that had failed him.

To think that was what her end would look like.

She quickly snapped her attention back on the fearful man that was staring her down, but she did nothing to escape him as he strode up to her and wrapped a strong hand around her upper arm lifting her from her seat.

She noticed that he was still clutching one of his guns, his finger restless against the trigger…itching to fire it again.

Molly bit her lip and looked up into the vampire's eyes, "Are you here to kill me?"

The man just narrowed his eyes before nodding his head once, "Yes."

Molly's shoulders slumped as she spoke softly, "Thank God."

* * *

**Yup, decided to put a little spin on the scene from 'The Blind Banker'...thought i was being clever. Some of you guessed right, Molly is not happy with being the 'mate' of Moriarty.**

**How is that going to play out I wonder? Sherlock to the rescue!**

**...Review? Pretty please?**


	3. Born of Blood

**Hello all! I would first like to thank everyone who took the time to read, follow, and/or review these last two chapters. It is honestly the best feeling when you wake up to an inbox full of notifications. I love how enthusiastic everyone is about this story...and i hope not to disappoint. **

**_Brytte Mystere_ gave me wonderful suggestions in regards to Molly's backstory. Part of that back story is told towards the end of the chapter in _italics_. Fair warning there is some graphic material in that section. But this is a rated M story about vampires, soooo yeah. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Sherlock knew that he had heard her right, but couldn't stop himself from asking her to repeat herself, "What?"

"You came here with the intention of killing me…" She clarified as she stared down at his gun and impulsively tucked one of her locks of hair behind her ear, "…all I ask is that you make it quick."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at her and spoke in a dark tone, "You're not afraid?"

Molly shook her head and looked down at her feet. "I have prayed for this day to come for as long as I can remember,"

She slowly brought her gaze back up to meet his piercing blue/green eyes. God, he was gorgeous. Those high cheekbones in contrast to his pale skin worked wonders for him. That unruly tousled hair fell perfectly against his forehead. The coat topped it off for her, he looked like Death incarnate. An Angel of Death, here to ferry her to the other side.

She did not know why he was here to kill her; all she knew was that she welcomed it. She wanted to be free from Moriarty forever.

Their eyes stayed locked for what felt like minutes and suddenly everything John had warned him about rushed to the surface, this girl was not responsible for what happened to Irene. She obviously hated Moriarty for whatever was done to her, she had been through enough trouble…she didn't deserve to be at the receiving end of Sherlock's.

He released his hold on her arm and went to put his gun back inside of his coat…he just couldn't do it.

"What are you doing?" Molly demanded as Sherlock turned around and began to leave. Before she knew what she was doing she was reaching forward and clasping his hand in hers.

He seemed to tense at the contact, and she released her hold on him. "I'm sorry."

"Shhh," Sherlock hushed her as he heard faint noises coming from the opposite end of the house.

"What?"

"Shut up!" he hissed at her as he stalked over to the door and put his ear against it.

Molly crossed her arms in frustration, this man had come here to kill her which he was obviously not going to do anymore…so what the hell was he doing?

Sherlock closed his eyes and willed his ears to open up to more acute sounds. He heard shuffling, and then screaming, and then lots of swearing…he could only assume that Moriarty had found the trail of dead vampires Sherlock had left and was headed this way.

"You've got to get out of here," Molly whispered, "He will kill you once he's found out what you've done. And it won't be a quick painless death either…you will beg for death before the end."

She had seen it happen. She had been forced to watch as Moriarty skinned and set fire to those who displeased him. The screams stayed with her and she could not get their pain out of her head. Just one of the many tortures Moriarty subjected her to. Physically, mentally, and psychologically.

"He will try…" Sherlock breathed as he grabbed a hold of her wrist and pulled out his gun once more, "Let's go."

Molly didn't take time to ask questions like; where are we going? Who are you? Why are you doing this?

Sherlock quietly opened the door and poked his head through to see if there were any guards patrolling the hallways. Luckily there weren't…but they'd be there soon.

Sherlock opened the door the whole way and began to quietly walk down the corridor with Molly behind him clinging to his hand.

He heard movement down below him and was able to visualize in his head where they were, how long it would take to get up here, and how many there were.

All Sherlock knew was that he was getting out of here alive…and Molly was coming with him.

oOoOo

"Are you mad?" Molly asked as she stared out of the window pane that Sherlock had just broken through. Glass splintered and broke underneath her stiletto heels as Sherlock nudged her forward.

"We have approximately 3 minutes until the first rays of sunlight appear on the horizon…I suggest you stop dawdling."

Molly glared at him before hiking up the end of her dress and jumping out of the third story window. The cement chipped beneath her feet as she landed safely, her legs bent and one arm forward for balance.

Sherlock followed suit and landed side-by-side to her, his coat rippling from the freefall. He then gripped her hand and they moved with haste out of Moriarty's turf.

Molly began to cry out in pain as the first rays of light struck her face, her skin was beginning to smoke as her skin went from white to pink as if she had a sunburn.

Sherlock quickly shrugged his Belstaff off and draped it over Molly's shoulders and head…the thick material would hopefully be enough to shield her from the sun.

"Just hold on," he warned her as he led her blindly the rest of the way, "we're almost there."

oOoOo

Upon arriving at one of his many boltholes, Molly winced in pain as Sherlock removed his coat from her shoulders. It had served its purpose of preventing her incineration…but she was still covered with splotches of third degree burns on her arms, legs, back, and face. Her whole body was a bright shade of pink; radiation had managed to leak through Sherlock's coat and turned her skin raw.

The burns cracked and smelled of cooked flesh. Facing off against the sun was the worst thing a vampire could do…for they would fail. Molly had only been out in the early morning for a matter of minutes…and she was already burned to a crisp.

She limped over to the bed in the middle of the room and sat on its edge. She would heal over time, but she would need fresh blood to speed up the process.

She attempted to reach behind her back to undo the zipper keeping her dress up, the fabric was aggravating her skin and she just wanted to be free of it. She cried out in pain as one of her burns cracked open and dark red blood began to drip free.

Sherlock stalked forward and grabbed a hold of her dress, each hand on either side of the zipper. "Hold still," he whispered before he tore the silky material straight from her body, letting it pool to her feet.

Molly sighed as she was finally free of the constricting material that tugged at her sensitive skin. She was vaguely aware that she was standing half naked in front of her savior. All that she relied on for cover was her black strapless bra and matching panties.

Sherlock began to expertly work on the clasp of her heavy diamond necklace, before tossing it down with the pieces of her dress.

The pain seemed to go away when she saw Sherlock lean down and scoop her into his arms bridal style. She tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder as he walked her over to the bed. Her legs dangled and bounced with each step he took.

He maneuvered them onto the bed so he was sitting up with his back against the headboard with his legs spread so she was curled up against him as she shuttered in pain.

Sherlock unbuttoned the cuff at his wrist and rolled the purple fabric up his sleeve, baring his vein for her. He clenched his fist and put it to her lips.

"Drink," he ordered her when she looked up at him questioningly. She peeled her lips back revealing two pointed fangs that she used to pierce his skin.

Molly moaned as she latched onto his wrist, drinking the elixir-of-life that was his hybrid blood. Her delicate hands clutched onto his wrist as she took long steady gulps. She knew that Sherlock wasn't a normal human…he was something much more. He moved like a vampire, but he could walk freely in the sun. It wasn't her place to ask him what he was…but she was dying to know.

Sherlock watched in wonder as her burns began to stitch themselves back together, her skin returning to its normal hue of creamy white. With no nourishment a vampire could heal from this severe an injury within a few hours, with human blood it would take a few minutes…but with his blood all she needed was a matter of seconds.

Healing wasn't all his blood did…

He bit his lip to suppress a moan of pleasure from escaping. His fangs elongated from the arousal he felt. Sherlock had never personally let a vampire drink from his vein, but Mycroft had informed him that it was a powerful aphrodisiac…for both him and the vampire.

Mycroft's 'assistant' Anthea could attest to that.

Do to Sherlock's mistrust of vampires he had never allowed one to take his vein; Irene had been human so it wasn't an issue that needed to be brought up.

Molly snapped out of her fervor when she felt Sherlock's hips buck up against her, his khaki black pants not doing much to hide the hardened length brushing up against her.

It took all her strength to pull apart from him…but she found the self-control to do so. She released him with a smack of her lips, a small trail of blood dripping down from the corner of her mouth.

"Sorry," she murmured as she swiped at it with the back of her hand.

"Don't mention it," he said, his voice an octave higher than normal, as he moved her to the side so he could slide off the bed. He turned his back to her so he could get his emotions in control. He took a deep breath as he willed his fangs back where they belonged.

He went over to the black chest on the far side of the room and began to rifle through several of the items, silver bullets, wooden stakes, extra scarves and coats. He found a pair of flannel pajama pants and a simple white undershirt. He figured Molly would be more comfortable in that versus the fancy dress. Not that her dress would be much use to her seeing as Sherlock had torn it completely down the middle.

"These are for you," Sherlock said as he tossed them into her lap. He then turned away from her once again to give her a sense of modesty (despite the fact that she had been curled up against him practically naked a moment ago).

He heard her clear her throat and turned to see her sitting on the edge of the bed with her hands resting neatly in her lap. Her bare feet toed the cold wooden floor as she curled them together. She had released her hair from her elaborate ponytail and her mane of wavy hair rested neatly over one shoulder.

She had undergone a complete transformation since coming here. When he first saw her she was gorgeous in a done up kind of way. The layers of makeup had hid her natural features, but looking upon her now…he preferred her like this.

Not that he wanted her or anything; his body had betrayed his mind when she fed from him…it was a natural bodily response. Nothing more.

"Who are you?" She asked realizing that she did not know his name.

"The name is Sherlock Holmes," he answered quickly as he stuck his hand in his pant pockets.

"What are you Mr. Holmes?" She asked without hesitation as if it had been in the back of her mind this whole time.

"One of nature's many loopholes." Sherlock answered tightly as he pulled a fresh black coat out of the closet and slipped it over his shoulders and popped the collar. "There is only one other who is like me, and he is my brother."

"I don't understand," she said as she snaked forward and grasped his hand. Her fingers gently slid over the two parallel bite marks she had left, which had already begun to fade. She rested her index and middle finger against the vein at his wrist, ""Your heart beats strong. Strong and powerful…and yet you are not one of us."

"Legend calls us Dhampirs…" he told her as he watched her intently, "A vampire born to a human mother. I retain the humanity and soul of my mother and gained the skills and savagery cut out for me by my father."

He lightly grasped her hand and gently pulled it away from his arm. He led her back to the king sized bed and softly sat her down.

"I need to go back out and make sure we weren't followed." Sherlock told her. "I'm gonna be gone for a couple of hours. Don't wait up for me…"

"You're just going to leave me here?" Molly asked as she watched him knot his blue scarf around his neck and pull on black leather gloves.

Sherlock simply nodded as he stood in the doorframe with his hand on the knob.

"How do you know I won't try to escape?" She challenged as she crossed her arms.

"Aside from the fact that you have about 13 hours of daylight left," Sherlock smirked and began to point to the four walls, "This drywall is laced with silver…no vampires come in, and none get out."

Molly couldn't help but chuckle slightly as Sherlock closed and locked the door behind him leaving her alone in the dark room.

A few minutes after he had left she settled down against the black pillows and decided to try and catch some sleep.

oOoOo

_Molly was kneeling in a pool of blood, surrounded by the lifeless bodies of her dead family and friends. Red liquid had splattered across her face when the demon had ripped through her fiancé Thomas's throat. She didn't understand what she had done to deserve this terrible fate. It wasn't supposed to be like this…_

_She had woken up thinking that this would be the best day of her life...but it quickly turned into the nightmare from hell. She was walking up towards the altar to meet her soon to be husband Tom. He was beaming down at her as she clutched onto her father's arm as he escorted her up the church. That would be the last moment of pure happiness that she would receive. _

_The smile fell off her face as she heard the church windows begin to rattle. She could hear the eerie wind howling as it caused the tree branches to shake against the windows causing the spine chilling sounds. _

_It wasn't natural. This was something unearthly. Suddenly the candles blew out, and the only light that flooded the sanctuary was the full moon. _

_All members of the congregation stood up in confusion turning their heads towards all the random sounds coming from outside the church. _

_The doors to the front church slammed open, and Molly turned to see a sinister looking man strutting in like he owned the place. He was followed by five others as they walked up the stairs to the sanctuary and began casting haunting glances onto the people. _

_What happened next she could not wrap her head around. The reverend had marched forward demanding to know why they were barging into the house of the Lord, interrupting the wedding of Molly Hooper and Thomas Keller. _

_The sinister man simply reached his hand forward and snapped the reverend's neck, turning it a complete 180 degrees. _

_She was able to make out his sing song voice over the screams of the congregation, "MEAL TIME!"_

_The demonic vampires began descending onto the terrified people. Latching onto their throats as blood began to spray every which direction. _

_Molly screamed as her father was ripped from her grasp. He was butchered a mere three feet from her, her beautiful white wedding gown had been dyed red from the gallons of blood being shed around her. _

_She saw Thomas lying dead on the floor, a look of pure terror on his face. He seemed to be stretched out towards Molly, as if warning her to get away. She crawled on her hands and knees to his body, the spilled blood making her gag as it stained her arms. _

_Silent tears fell down her face as she stroked his pale cheek. Maybe this was just some hellish nightmare. Maybe if she closed her eyes long enough she'd wake up._

_She suddenly felt a large hand envelop her throat. She closed her eyes and resigned herself to her fate. Before he was able to make the final blow she heard __**HIS**__ voice…_

"_No Moran…not her," he bellowed and she felt herself sliding to the ground as the large vampire release his hold on her. She crawled straight back for Thomas, ignoring the vampire leader as he called off his clan. _

_He would not take this from her. She would not beg, she would not grovel…her death would be her own. _

_She suddenly felt tender arms gently pull her to her feet; she turned and saw who was responsible for this massacre. _

_Her eyes widened in horror as she looked upon his face. It wasn't possible. It was Richard Brook._

"_Oh my dear Molly," Moriarty said in a sing song voice as he grabbed at her wrist so hard his nails drew blood. He pulled his bloodied fingertips to his mouth and inhaled deeply as he bared his fangs. "Is that anyway to say hello to an old friend?"_

_oOoOo_

Molly resurfaced from her nightmare gasping for air. She might not need oxygen to live, but she still struggled to fill her empty lungs as she tried to get a grip on reality.

She suddenly realized that Sherlock was hovering over her staring at her with a glimmer of worry in his eyes.

She lashed out striking him on the face as she crawled off the bed and tumbled onto the floor, "No! Stop it! Get away from me!"

Sherlock was leaning on the bed one moment, and the next he was crouched down in front of her as he tried to get her to calm down. "Easy, you're fine. It was just a nightmare…"

"No it wasn't," she cried out harshly, "it was a memory!"

Molly continued to lash out and Sherlock was forced to restrain her in his arms until her episode had passed.

A while later he felt Molly finally settle in his arms and he loosened his grip on her. She got onto her feet unsteadily before she walked back to the bed and sat on the ledge.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, "I don't normally lose control like that."

Sherlock waved her off, it was in a vampire's nature to be violent…no matter how much control they had over their temper. He also rose to his feet and walked over to a chair in the corner of the room and plopped down.

They sat in silence until Molly turned to him and asked him a question, "Why did you let me live?"

"Excuse me?" Sherlock asked as he ruffled his brow.

Molly sat up, "why did you decide to spare me?"

"Why do you have a death wish?" Sherlock countered her as he avoided the question.

"I asked first," Molly smirked as she wrapped her arms around her knees, "an answer for an answer."

"James Moriarty killed my wife over ten years ago. I only recently found out that he was the mastermind behind her murder. I thought that by-"

"You thought by killing me it would make the pain go away." Molly answered for him in understanding. It made sense, in a sick way she was the one who held Moriarty's heart…he was already mentally unstable, she didn't want to think about what he would've done had she been staked.

"I was caught up in rage that I lost sight of who was responsible for Irene's murder. It was not you…I have no quarrel with you. I saw a spark in your eyes. The spark of someone who has nothing left to lose, just like me."

Molly nodded as Sherlock explained the reasoning behind his actions. He then crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, "Your turn…why do you want to die?"

Molly took a breath and closed her eyes. "I have been a slave to Moriarty for over a hundred years."

"What did he do to you?" Sherlock asked.

Molly turned her head away from him and looked down.

"What…did…Moriarty…do…to…you," he said slowly as he annunciated each word, his voice laced with anger.

Molly ran a hand through her hair as she recalled the events the night she was turned. "He butchered my family. My parents …my fiancé Thomas."

"Yet he left you alive," Sherlock answered for her,

"He was intrigued by me…" Molly shuttered, "Ever since I was a little girl he watched me. He watched and waited from the shadows. Once I was at my prime he made him move. My wedding day was supposed to be a new chapter in my life…I hate that I was right."

"I waited so long, and so patiently…hoping that one day he would grow bored of me and end this hell I live in…that day never came."

Sherlock didn't know when it happened. But one minute he was leaned forward with his fingers steepled against his lips as his elbows rested on his knees, and the next he was walking over to Molly, picking her up by the tops of her arms, and pressing his lips to hers in a heated frenzy.

* * *

**Yes I am a horrible human being who had Molly get turned on her wedding day. I threw the Sherlolly kiss into make up for it. Cause let's be honest...that's why we're all here is to see some Sherlolly lovin' :). **

**P.S. Molly's history will be explained further, especially how she knew Moriarty as Richard Brook. **

**P.S.S. Age wise I'd say Molly is around 130 and Sherlock is around 90 (he's older than he looks).**

**P.S.S.S. A reviewer asked if Dhampir's age...mine don't. They age normally until they hit their 30's then they stop. Mycroft got unlucky and looks around 40. They are immortal like their vampire relatives. And Sherlock and Mycroft are the only known Dhampirs (are there others? Who knows...)**


	4. Werewolves of London

**Hello. Welcome back! Huge thanks to all who took the time to read and review or decided to follow the story. I'm glad each of you are along for the ride and I hope you enjoy whatever comes next.**

**It's hard to explain...but this chapter kind of goes out of order. I'll let you read, and then I'll explain at the end of the chapter. It should still make sense...but then again as the writer, I may be biased about that. :/**

**Oh well, I'll let you read for yourselves...**

* * *

**Flashback**

"_It's allright," Sherlock said attempting to calm down his friend, "It's okay now."_

"_NO IT'S NOT! IT'S NOT OKAY," John shouted, "I saw it, I was wrong."_

"_Only marginally," Sherlock said as he put his hands in his pockets and shrugged his shoulders, "It's not a hound at all…it's a lycanthrope."_

"_A lycan-" John whispered as he tried to get his nerves under control._

"_More commonly known as werewolves…do keep up John, you've been in the hunting business with me for over a year, I expect you to do your research." Sherlock scolded as he squatted down to the cold tiles and began tracking the monstrous beast. He then began to talk to himself as he gathered the evidence, "Not just any werewolf, but one that originated from the west…and American werewolf in London…"_

_He would have to call his associates, The Winchesters. The two brothers, Sam and Dean, would possibly have further information that could be of use to him._

"_Werewolf?" John said his eyes going wide, "You mean to tell me that there are other things out there beside vampires!"_

"_John keep your voice down!" Sherlock hissed, "And yes. If vampires exist, it is perfectly logical for other supernatural creatures to as well."_

"_What kinds of things? Witches? Goblins? Dragons?"_

"_Don't be ridiculous," Sherlock scoffed, "Dragons have been extinct for over 1000 years."_

"_I just want to go home," John cried in frustration as he reluctantly followed Sherlock out of the facility._

_John of course didn't get to go home that night. A young man, Henry Knight, had sought Sherlock Holmes out because he claimed that a massive hound had killed his father 20 years earlier. This piped Sherlock's interest vastly. Before John had known what was going on they were taking a train to Baskerville to sort out this bizarre mystery. _

_Of course it turned out that 'the hound' was actually a massive shape-shifting man who could turn into a giant wolfman at will. Nothing to worry about though._

_Nothing until Sherlock was backed into a corner by the beast. John cried out as the werewolf lunged at his friend ripping into Sherlock's shoulder and completely tearing off one side of his Belstaff._

_Sherlock yelled in pain as the werewolf flung him around as a dog would a chew toy. It was all happening in a blur for John Watson; one minute he thought Sherlock's arm was going to be ripped off and the next Sherlock was plunging a syringe filled with wolfsbane into the beast's mangy black fur. _

_The werewolf dropped Sherlock and moaned as it limped around as if intoxicated, trying in vain to remove the needle sticking out of his back. It collapsed to the ground and slowly morphed back into the form of a man lying stark naked in Dewar's hollow._

_Sherlock was panting as he collapsed against one of the boulders, clutching his limp arm against his chest. He honestly thought that the werewolf was going to rip it straight from its socket. God knows it came close._

"_Oh my God," John said as he crawled over to Sherlock to look at the chunk of flesh missing from Sherlock's arm. "He bit you, oh my God he bit you."_

_Sherlock just groaned as he struggled to his feet and turned his back to his friend. He felt his fangs retract as they often did when he was anxious or in pain. "I'm going to be fine John. Please don't worry about me."_

"_Are you going to turn into one of them?" John scrunched up handfuls of his hair and began pacing around. "Sherlock! What's going to happen to you?!"_

_Sherlock rolled his eyes, of course he was immune to the venom of both vampires and werewolves…he was dhampir after all. But John wasn't aware of that fact and went on absentmindedly believing that his roommate was simply another ordinary human._

_John Watson observed but did not see._

_Sherlock groaned as his muscle literally began to stitch itself back together to replace the missing tissue. He couldn't think of any logical explanations for the miraculous reasoning why his arm healed. John could be gullible, but towards something like this. He had successfully hid his secret from John for 3 long years…the truth had to come out eventually. _

_He hadn't taken the news well._

_It was three months before John Watson walked back into 221B. _

oOo

John awoke to the sound of a door slamming. The noise so loud that he jumped off of the chair where he was snoozing and turned around to face whatever had made the noise.

Sherlock came strutting through the door with a female hot on his tail.

"John Watson," Sherlock gestured between his friend and his guest, "this is Molly."

John's eyes went wide at the mention of Molly.

"She is going to be staying here for a few days…she will need your old room. Unfortunately, you have failed to move out any of your belongings despite the fact that you've been cooped up with Mrs. Watson for the past several months."

"Yes of course," John nodded then turned to Molly, "how do you do?"

John was genuinely surprised and relived to see the female vampire alive and well (…alive as can be that is).

Molly widened her lips into a polite smile as she greeted John. She was quiet and shy, just as she appeared to be.

John didn't miss the exchange between Molly and Sherlock as she made her way into his bedroom, her head down and her arms folded across her chest as she went.

Pictures were worth a thousand words. And if John had taken a photo of Sherlock at this particular moment…he would have been able to write a novel about it. Sherlock was displaying a wide array of emotions without even realizing it.

He was looking at Molly longingly, as if recalling something from the past. He couldn't quite place it…somewhere between regret and brazenness.

When John heard the door to Sherlock's room shut he turned to his friend and gave him a dirty look as he crossed his arms.

He didn't need to ask, the twin puncture marks peeping from the top of Sherlock's neck were evidence enough, but he needed to hear it from Sherlock's mouth.

"Did you have sex with her?" John whispered in disbelief and alarm.

"That fact is irrelevant," Sherlock said as he avoided John's gaze.

"Oh God, Oh God," John said as he covered his face with his hands, "How can you possibly think that this is a good idea?"

"Oh do relax John, it was strictly biology. She fed from me and it effected my hormones…it meant nothing."

"That's not nothing Sherlock! That's everything…just 24 hours ago you were hell bent on staking her."

"It would be extremely wise of you to change this subject Watson…you are treading on dangerous waters."

"Have you even been with a woman since Irene?"

"It meant NOTHING!" Sherlock hissed as he slammed his fist into the table at his side so hard the wood chipped. "it was a mistake…"

oOoOo

Molly sighed as she tucked her knees into her chest. She could hear Sherlock and his friend arguing from the other room…about her.

But honestly, what did she think was going to happen? Sherlock would mark and bond with her, claiming her as his own?

No. Only one woman had ever held his heart and taken it with her when she died.

_The Woman._

What was one night versus a whole lifetimes worth?

She sighed as she glanced around the room, noting how sparce the whole place looked. A room fit for a vampire. A king sized bed with maroon sheets and a black duvet, wooden floors, black wooden furniture…and a single picture on the bedside table kept in a gold frame.

She glanced at the door, as if worried that Sherlock would come bursting through. When she heard nothing she reached over and clutched the large frame in her two hands, studying it intently.

It was a picture of Sherlock and Irene Adler, his long dead wife.

Even though he hadn't physically aged in the 13 years since the photo was taken, he looked different now than he did then. His eyes were fuller and his skin darker. He might not have been smiling at whomever was taking their picture…but she could tell that he was happy.

And now he was just a shell of his former self. A crusader out on a personal vendetta against the vampires who ended his wife's life.

Molly turned her focus towards Irene. The woman was without a doubt gorgeous. Molly could tell that Irene had been independent, powerful, and stubborn…all the traits Sherlock had. She must have been like his equal.

In the photograph Irene's hair was down past her shoulders, framing her face. It fell in pools of jet black and it accented her slightly pale skin rather well.

'That's weird…' Molly thought as she studied the black haired female, 'she kind of looks like…no. There's no way.'

She hastily put the frame back and walked out of Sherlock's room. She didn't want to snoop. The rest of the night, Molly couldn't shake the thought that she had seen Irene Adler before.

* * *

**Lot's going on. Next chapter will go into detail about what transpired between Molly in Sherlock in-between this chapter and the last one. (Meaning plenty of hot vampire smut)...that's what we're all here for anyways though, right?**

**Also we're going to be seeing how Moriarty is dealing with his separation from Molly...it's like the heart has been burned out of him.**

**Who caught the Supernatural reference?**


	5. Bent, never Broken

**Hello...for once I don't have much to say. So enjoy! (Just remember this takes place right after the end of chapter 3...its what transpired THAT night).**

**P.S. Mentions of non-con (from Moriarty)**

* * *

Molly fell back onto the bed as Sherlock moved his lips away from her mouth and began to lick and suck his way down to her neck.

She moaned in bliss as his fangs lightly scraped the surface of her skin, not enough to draw blood…but just enough to elicit a response…a very powerful and very erotic response.

She hesitantly ran her hands up his shoulders. Her fingers ghosting across the fabric of his wool coat. She worked her away around to the space between them and grasped at the lapels of his Belstaff, hesitantly pushing them as to shove the fabric away.

Sherlock took the hint, and in a split second he pulled away from her and shucked the heavy black coat into the corner of the room. He was back on her instantly, returning his now swollen lips to hers.

She felt him plant a hand behind her neck, and the other on her waist. She clutched at his shoulders when he pulled her up into a seated position on his lap. She shuddered as she felt his hardened cock brush up against her as he bucked his hips, rotating them at her center.

She gasped into his mouth; she felt her core moistening as he continued his work. His hands trailed along the edge of her t-shirt, tickling the bare skin of her belly. His fingers were calloused and rough…most likely due to his years as a vampire hunter. But his hands were also warm…which surprised her. He was so pale he looked like a ghost…

Thoughts that went through her head quickly disappeared as he gripped at the hem of her shirt and in one fell swoop pulled it up her stomach, over her shoulders, and off of her head. Leaving her completely bare for him.

Had she been able to, she would have gotten goosebumps. She fought the urge to cover her breasts, but she did avert her gaze away from him. She couldn't work up the courage to look him in the eye.

Not yet.

So she occupied herself with the buttons of his purple silk shirt. The buttons strained against his chest in such a way that she was surprised they hadn't snapped completely off. She found it hard to concentrate when his hand enveloped one of her breasts, squeezing and kneading it until her nipples hardened.

She eventually gave up on the second button and simply tore the shirt down the middle, as he had done to her dress a few hours earlier. As she pushed the silky material down his arms, she grazed her fingers across his flawless skin, familiarizing herself with his body. He was skinny, but extraordinarily muscular. Every muscle he had was there for a purpose, and not for show.

Sherlock gripped her hip again and lowered them back down until her bare back hit the sheets and her head the pillow. She cried out and bucked her hips up into his pelvis when his lips incased her left nipple, his fingers working at her right. His fangs grazed her sensitive skin to the point where pain became pleasure.

His mouth released her nipple with a 'pop'. He moved his face close to hers, as he stared at her thin pink lips. "Are you ready for me Molly?"

He slipped his hand into her sweatpants and panties, ghosting across her hairless mound until he reached her folds. When he pushed two fingers deep within her, Molly's eyes practically rolled into the back of her head. Her grip on his shoulders tightened to the point where they drew blood.

He smirked at her deviously as he finally looked her in the eye. "I'd say that you are."

Suddenly her sweatpants were on the floor with the remaining clothing that had been peeled off piece by piece. He unbuckled his belt and pushed his pants to his thighs, just far enough to free his hardened cock.

He gripped the inside of her knee, spread her wide, and unsheathed himself into her completely.

They groaned in harmony at the unity. Her hips rose up to meet his as he slowly pulled out only to push himself back in.

The way he moved in her was like nothing she had ever felt. It was glorious…

It was never like this with Moriarty.

Whenever her maker had made his way into her bed chambers, he would take her forcefully from behind, pushing her face into the floor or wall as he bleeded her. After many years of screaming and attempting to fight back, she regretfully succumbed to defeat…letting him ride her out.

She got a sliver of pride from this; Moriarty was turned on by her fighting back. So naturally when she lied still for him he grew frustrated and angry. In a sick way she held power over him, and knew which buttons she could push to make him snap on a moment's notice.

She sniffled a sob as the memories relapsed in her head, fresh as the night they had happened.

Sherlock immediately stilled above her. He moved his hand to her chin and gently forced her to meet him in the eye, "Did I hurt you?"

There wasn't regret in his voice, he wasn't coddling her or treating her like a glass doll…but the tone of voice suggested that he didn't care whether or not he harmed her. But the fact that he asked in the first place suggested that to some extent, _he did care_.

Molly shook her head quickly, urging Sherlock to continue… "No, no of course not. It's just never been…like this, for me."

She had been with her fiancée Tom just once. He had taken the gift of her virtue on their engagement night. The following morning, they both decided to wait until they actually wed…lest they attract unwanted attention from the aristocrats that their parents belonged to.

She loved Tom, she truly did…but reputation always came first to him. It always outweighed matters of the heart.

That night seemed like ancient history…hell, for all intents and purposes it was. A hundred years being at the hands of Moriarty had purged every good feeling she ever had right out of her. She couldn't even remember what Tom looked like for Godsake.

So yes, when Molly felt something good for the first time since she could remember…she cried. Not because she was saddened, or hurt, or mourning…but because Moriarty was no longer dictating her life.

She finally felt free.

That was the difference between Sherlock Holmes and James Moriarty. Moriarty was a monster…and Sherlock was a man.

oOoOo

"Should I be worried?" John asked his wife as he paced around their house. He hadn't heard from Sherlock in a couple of days. He was still pissed about Sherlock's assassination plan, but he still worried about his friend's safety.

Sherlock was as cunning as he was calculating. He would never jump into a situation if there were not at least three possible solutions. It wasn't worth the risk.

"John," Mary said as she brought over a cup of tea for her husband, "I couldn't kill Sherlock…I doubt that one of his own could."

That was true; Mary had been a former supernatural assassin for the United States government before she defected. She faked her identity, perfected the English accent, and lived out her days in peace with her understanding husband.

"I just hope that he hasn't gotten himself into a situation that he can't handle."

oOoOo

"OH GOD!" Molly cried out as he thrust into her with his vamp speed, "Don't stop…PLEASE DON'T STOP!"

He didn't, and continued to comply her every request. Whether it be harder, faster, or stronger. Finally after a few more thrusts he bucked his hips a final time and poured his seed into her as she milked it from him.

He hissed as she sunk her fangs into his neck, pulling at his skin and lapping up his enchanted blood. It only made him hard again. Why did biting have to be such an aphrodisiac? Would drinking from her be as pleasurable?

He pushed the thoughts aside as he rolled off of her and ran a hand though his unruly hair which was slick with sweat. He hadn't come here with the intention of having sex with her. Sherlock Holmes and sex did not go together.

So suffice to say he was a little shocked that he was the one that instigated the act in the first place.

They adjusted their clothes in silence.

Sherlock tucked himself back into his pants, and rebuttoned his shirt (as best he could); Molly quietly pulled on the dark denim jeans that Sherlock had brought her earlier along with the forest green v neck.

She slipped her petite feet into a pair of black flats, which were so much more comfortable then the stiletto heels she had worn here.

She stole a glance at Sherlock who had not spoken a word since he pulled out of her a few minutes ago.

He finally cleared his throat, "I apologize for taking advantage of you like that."

Molly's head snapped up, "I'm sorry what?"

She couldn't have heard him right, but nonetheless he went on. "You were in a state of panic when I got here, I shouldn't have made the advances that I did. It was a mistake, and I'm sorry for that."

Molly felt her heart drop. Granted, she knew that there wasn't a fairytale ending for her. But she didn't regret a moment between them…so it hurt her to know that he did.

"It is clear that Moriarty has hurt you-" Sherlock began.

"I DON'T WANT YOUR PITY!" Molly cried out in anger as she stood up from the bed gracefully, "It has gotten me nowhere in this miserable life!"

Sherlock looked taken aback at her outburst, he was about to open his mouth to retort her…but she beat him to it.

"Not 12 bloody hours ago you were hell bent on turning me to a little pile of ash…seeing as you lost your resolve, I'd appreciate it if you don't coddle me like some incompetent child! I'm tired of people looking at me like I'm about to break. I might look fragile, but I'm not."

Sherlock froze as she finished her speech.

"I learned real quick that being weak wouldn't get me anywhere." She said sternly as she crossed her arms, "I'm bent…not broken."

Sherlock cleared his throat to change the subject as Molly stared him down with her arms crossed.

"The sun set five minutes ago," Sherlock said as he worked on his last button, "It is safe for us to leave now."

"Where are we going?" Molly asked as she pulled on a leather jacket to blend in better.

Sherlock knotted his blue cashmere scarf around his neck (effectively hiding the bite mark she left him), and led her out of the bolthole, "To Baker Street."

* * *

**Fair warning...I don't have a whole lot of experience in the smutty section of creative writing. Please let me know what you think...I'm lost without your reviews.**

**And I swear, Moriarty is coming next chapter...we will all see just how crazy he is.**


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